#even though I just say the same thing every time over and over and I know it's annoying so I'm sorry orz

[jeonginsleftcheek]

Cuddling with Stray Kids

pairing: ot8 x reader

genre: fluff, suggestive

a/n: mentions of sex, mentions of anxiety, this is just my opinion, not proofread, hope you enjoy!🤍

additional notes: i have 12 things in my drafts and they're all over the place but i wanted to post something

Chan:

I feel like Chan gives the best and biggest hugs so you will probably be drowning in his arms with your face buried in his chest or neck. It's probably late at night when you cuddle, and first you talk about your day and complain about your work or studies. Chan will listen to you and throw in a few quips here and there as he holds you and caresses your hair. Then you ask him about his day and he'll talk about his members and funny things they did or said. As it gets later, you both get quieter and Chan's favorite thing is when you put your leg around him and pull him even closer, leaning in and leaving kisses everywhere on his face. Every time you do that it makes him blush, no matter how long you've been together. Even though he usually says he can't sleep, he will fall asleep first in your arms because he feels relaxed and safe. Then you can admire his beautiful face before you drift off to sleep too.

Minho:

I feel like Minho would also love facing you and talking to you while cuddling, but he would love to bury his face in your chest and leave little kisses everywhere. Most of the times he will also leave small bites and nibbles and you always warn him not to start anything cause you really want to take some rest. He always smirks and leaves a few more kisses on your neck. I think he would also love pressing his lips into yours, as his hand slides under your shirt and rests on your back. He would draw little patterns on your skin and his hand would always without a doubt slide down to grip your ass. Can you blame him though, you're hot and he loves you, he just can't help himself.

Changbin:

Changbin would love it if you lay on his chest. He would put his arms around you and caress your hair and face. The sound of his heartbeat will always calm you down, any anxiety of the day will be wiped away as soon as you feel his big arms wrap around you. He would kiss your hair and forehead gently and ask you if you were okay and if you had a good day. You would talk with him but your eyelids would get heavy, it's hard not to fall asleep when he's touching you so gently like he's afraid to disturb you. His presence is calming to you and you feel so loved and safe.

Hyunjin:

Hyunjin would love to be the big spoon and he'd hold you so close to him and so tightly that you think he might want to merge into you. His face would be buried in your hair, he just loves to inhale your sweet shampoo because it calms him down. His hands would be roaming around your body, and he would squeeze you gently a few times. But, Hyunjin can't help himself being this close to you while your perfect ass is pushed up against his middle so cuddling sessions almost always end with lazy sex.

Jisung:

I think Jisung would love being both the big and the little spoon. If he's the little spoon, he'd love it if you held him real tight and also hold his hands at the same time. But, if he was the big spoon, I feel like he'd just grab and hold your boob. Nothing sexual, he just finds it relaxing to hold it and squeeze it like it's a stress ball. On some days, I feel like he wouldn't stop yapping while you cuddle and you would be playfully annoyed at him, so he would annoy you even more on purpose. He'd probably start talking nonsense or he'd start singing with an annoying voice. You would smack his butt and he'd just laugh because he enjoys teasing you. On other days, when he's really tired and in his head, he'd be quiet and he'd let you talk about everything and anything because the sound of your voice calms him down.

Felix:

I think Felix would love to rest his head on your chest or tummy. This boy will be clinging to you like a koala, limbs all wrapped around you so you don't ever think of escaping. He would nuzzle his face in your chest or neck, and if he's laying on your tummy he will bury his face there and leave kisses on your skin. His hands will be all over you as will his lips, he can't help it, he adores you. I think cuddling sessions with him can go either way. Either he's falling asleep as you caress him or because he's a horny little thing he will end up with his face buried between your legs.

Seungmin:

Okay so, I feel like Seungmin would love facing you while cuddling. Even though he's shy and it's hard to maintain eye contact for him, he loves the way you look at him, the admiration in your eyes. He loves the way your eyes crinkle when you smile at him, and the way you caress his cheek and hair. He would hold your waist and run his fingertips on your skin gently. If it's late at night, he'd probably sing you a gentle lullaby, especially if you had a bad day. He'd sing for you whenever anyways. I feel like he'd also love to exchange a few gentle kisses before both of you drift off together, holding onto each other tightly.

Jeongin:

I feel like he'd be the most restless out of everyone while cuddling. He would love to spoon you, but after some time he would just start feeling jittery so he would play with your hair, poke your cheek or start tickling you. Your cuddling session would probably turn into play wrestling, as you both tried to tickle and annoy each other. When you're both almost breathless Jeongin will lean down to kiss you and let's just say that you're not going to sleep soon.

#skz x reader #skz smut #skz fluff #skz soft hours #skz reactions #stray kids fluff #stray kids x reader #bang chan x reader #hyunjin x reader #changbin x reader #lee know x reader #lee felix x reader #seungmin x reader #jisung x reader #jeongin x reader #i.n x reader #hwang hyunjin #lee felix #bang chan #lee know #seungmin #han jisung #changbin #jeongin

[dqrciedaily]

baby arsenal headcannons, arsenal wfc x teen!reader

a/n: i am so so so sorry that this isn’t an actual fic but i’ve left yous without anything for like two weeks so take this 🥰🥰🥰

warning - this isn’t proofread so pls ignore any mistakes x

-

1. she is maths no.1 public enemy - literally will stare at her homework for two hours instead of actually trying it. then the next day at school she gets in trouble for not doing it but she genuinely couldn’t care less because she’d rather have them email lia than try do trigonometry

2. her tiktok reposts and twitter likes have fans speculating like there is no tomorrow - she’s definitely liked transfer rumours on twitter before as well as reposting things she shouldn’t be and she reposts things that happened way back way but people think it’s about her current situation, leading to some very concerned fans in her tiktok comments and instagram requests.

3. baby girl has stina and laura wrapped around her finger - she’s cold? stina’s gonna give her the jumper she’s wearing. she’s hungry? laura’s up to make her something to eat, even though maus is perfectly capable of doing it herself. they’re basically on her beck and call.

4. she always curses out players in german on the pitch - when she was younger her brothers taught her the art of cursing people out in german then speaking in english to confuse them. however this did not work when arsenal played chelsea and she went flying after a tackle from nüsken, who very obviously understands german, leading to maus getting a yellow.

5. which leads to the next point which is that she gets her fair share of yellows - giving katie a run for her money, although most of hers come from back chatting the ref and not from actual gameplay, although she isn’t afraid to put in a heavy tackle here and there.

6. her + kyra = little shits on steroids - on the first media day of the season they decided to put y/n and kyra in three of the same interviews, let’s just say absolutely nothing productive happened until caitlin had to come in to do an interview with the two of them.

7. she’s lia’s no.1 reason for her early gray hairs - firstly maus is awful at answering phone calls, so if she’s out with her friends and lia needs something best believe she cannot contact her. secondly the amount of emails the school sends her may send lia into overdrive, she genuinely couldn’t care less if y/n didn’t do her homework as long as she’s passing all her classes, which she is (besides math but lia doesn’t need to know that.)

8. y/n has the best outfits - her instagram feed is filled with mirror pics of her outfits and they’re all just so good!!! she’s known for her fashionable clothes throughout the woso community.

9. she gets really really really nervous when doing interviews by herself - she already refuses to do orals in school because they stress her out too much, so after her first full 90 for arsenal she gets called to do an interview and poor girl is swaying from side to side the entire time, stumbling over her words and overall looking like a deer caught in headlights.

10. the first time she brings a girl or boy home lia gets a group of the girls to pretend they’re over for dinner without telling y/n - so then when y/n gets home she sees most of her teammates there and very hastily shoves her ‘friend’ upstairs, before going over to the girls who all tease her. then when she’s upstairs in her room with her ‘friend’ they all take turns coming upstairs to walk past the closed door to hear what they’re talking about.

11. she is a hugger of note - the first time she meant all the girls minus her shy demeanour she hugged every single teammate she met. she is also a massive cuddler, on the team bus she makes ours sit in the window seat (much to the brunettes complains) then uses kyra as a pillow which 1. forces kyra to be quiet because she doesn’t want to wake y/n and 2. she can’t move around the bus as she wants deciding to annoy everyone which the other girls are very thankful for.

12. her first crush on a girl was laura freigang, who she had seen around the german youth camps before - she even told her parents at one stage that she was going to go to penn state just like lau did but that phase was short lived when she then developed a crush on one of her teammates in her age group instead.

13. in another life she’s a dj who lives in ibiza - literally no explanation needed, she truly is a party animal at heart and would go to all the festivals and raves possible during the off season.

#darcie’s drabbles #woso x reader #woso imagine #arsenal wfc #arsenal wfc x reader

[codtrashsammy]

oh no i'm having more soft Ghoap thoughts

okokko this is more of a little ficlet thing but it makes my lil heart happy so enjoy <3

also y'all i do not be editing these. at all. I just be throwin shit down on paper and making my brain produce dopamine.

if you all have any requests though pls feel free to drop into my ask box <3 I will gladly write whatever. I'm sure i'll come up with rules eventually, but rn I'm pretty open-minded and can't think of much I would refuse <3

You're waltzing around your apartment, half asleep but with a tired smile on your face. Johnny comes back today, after all, and of course that means Simon will be coming too! You've been dating Johnny exclusively for a few months now. Sure, sometimes Simon will hold your hand, or pull you in for a hug. And sure, sometimes Simon sits with you in the early mornings on the balcony while you drink a warm drink, and he smokes a cigarette- looking at you with rapt attention and soft eyes, hanging onto every word you say. Okay, and maybe he calls you 'love' and 'darling' but he's British, so it's probably normal. But it's entirely platonic- you're at least 78% sure, and plus only Johnny had asked you out- so you have to stay loyal to him even if you do feel something for the bigger brute.

But! You need to get your ass into gear and make your boys- boy something to eat- knowing damn well they- he will be hungry when they- ah fuck it. You're going to cook them a good ass meal to enjoy- knowing they will enjoy it after a month of MRE's and shitty mess hall food (Johnny's words). So you do. You work away in the kitchen- though the clock reads barely past 2AM, knowing they should arrive around 3AM at this point. You've timed it perfectly, so by the time you set everything out on the kitchen island, still steaming and hot, you hear the familiar playful rapt at your door.

ba ba baba ba

With a grin you glance over the selection of food first- mashed potatoes, green beans, fried pork chops, and freshly made black tea- you make your way over to the door and open it with a grin. "'m glad you're back!" You bout out happily, sending both men a bright grin despite your slightly tired eyes along with theirs. "Missed ye, bonnie," Johnny is quick to just waltz right on in, arms wrapping around you and lifting you up slightly with one hand, his other hand occupied carrying his duffel bag.

A snort of amusement leaves your lips as you hug him back, pressing a kiss to his lips before batting at him to put you down- though he doesn't hesitate once he notices the smell in the house. "Oooh, what's this, bonnie?" Johnny hums out, dropping his bag somewhere in the living room as he makes his way to the kitchen.

A soft laugh leaves your lips at his reaction, but you don't bother to answer him as you turn your attention to Simon, whose closing the door behind him. He's wearing his usual little black medical mask- the one he wears in place of the balaclava when he's off duty.

So imagine your utter shock and dumb fuck surprise when he pulls the thing down, steps forward, places a gentle hand on your cheek and kisses you. "Missed ya, too, love," Simon quips easily, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear before simply dropping his bag and just walking right into the kitchen.

Sir, I'm sorry, what the fuck was that?! It's a thought, no words leave your lips as your cheeks heat up.

Oh no, you just cheated on your boyfriend- in the same house with him- with his best friend.

WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU DO NOW?!

Apparently, nothing but walk into the kitchen with your boys, watching as the two of them are already seated with stacked plates in front of them. You blink blankly at the scene.

You hesitate before taking a seat, sitting across from Johnny and resting your hands on the table, looking between the two of them as they converse casually.

"Take such good care o' us, bonnie, dunnae ken what I did to deserve ya," Johnny quips, looking at you with bright blue eyes and a genuinely content smile on his face between shoveling bites of food.

"Stopped bein' a bloody prick fer more than two seconds," Simon says, voice low and monotone yet somehow tinged with amusement.

You blink again. Huh "You kissed me?" You say it as a statement, but it comes out as a question as you look at Simon, ignoring their banter even though it makes you want to snort in amusement. You're too dumbfounded and bewildered right now to handle this situation. "Uh huh." Simon responds, flatly, like it's the most obvious thing in the world as he takes a bite of mashed potatoes. Johnny looks between the two of you, a slow smirk pulling at his lips, "LT, you sly dog," Johnny murmurs with clear amusement, elbowing the bigger man in the side playfully. You sputter for a moment, looking back over at Johnny, "A-and you're just- okay with that?!" You ask in utter confusion, bewildered but not exactly disappointed at the scene.

So you didn't cheat on your boyfriend with his best friend? Johnny looks at you and this time he blinks in confusion before turning his head and grabbing Simon's jaw, pulling him close and planting a kiss on Simon's lips, causing Simon to grunt in annoyance- only because he was still eating.

Johnny turns back to you with a shrug, a twinkle of mischief in his eyes. "Even?" You stare at the scene with heated cheeks before throwing your hands up in defeat, "...Even." You relent with a huff. ....can't cheat on your boyfriend with your other boyfriend who is also your boyfriends boyfriend you suppose.

#simon riley x you #cod x reader #ghost x reader #ghost x you #simon ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #141 x reader #sammys soft times #simon ghost riley x reader #ghoap x reader #simon ghost riley x reader x john soap mactavish #johnny soap mactavish x reader #soap x reader #soap x ghost x reader #ghost x reader x soap #johnny mactavish x reader

[i-literally-cant-with-this]

A/N ::: Oh, just me. Wishin' I could have woken up with any one of those boys. *sigh* Whatever, though.

C/W ::: Morning sex and the things that come along with it? Idk.

MDNI under the cut. Please//Thanks.

::: BAJI :::

👓 He wakes up and starts rubbing the dip in your waist. You know right then and there what you're in for, so you back your ass up against the already full bulge in his boxers.

👓 He growls at the contact of your body against his most sensitive parts, grinding up into you for that extra delicious friction.

👓 He slips his boxers down and slides his shaft between your cheeks, teasing you with the tip.

👓 You reach behind you and guide him into your entrance, biting your lip at the sensation of his cock filling you up.

👓 He starts thrusting, setting a slow and steady pace. He knows he can go faster, but he wants to savor the feeling of you around him.

👓 You rock your hips back, taking him deeper inside you. He feels so good, and the heat that's starting to build in your core is overwhelming.

👓 Baji leans forward and nibbles on your ear, whispering the dirtiest things. He tells you how tight you are, and how he loves the way your ass jiggles every time he pounds into your cunt.

👓 You both cum at the same time, your pussy milking him dry.

::: MITSUYA :::

📚 He wakes you up with a kiss, his lips soft and warm against yours.

📚 You smile against his mouth as he deepens the kiss, his tongue exploring the small space between your lips.

📚 He pulls away, his eyes lidded as he looks down at you. His fingertips dance across your collarbone and down to your breasts.

📚 You arch your back, your chest pressing up against his touch. His hands are so gentle, but the look in his eyes is anything but.

📚 He pulls the sheets down, revealing your naked body. He sucks in a breath at the sight, his cock already hard and ready to go.

📚 Mitsuya settles himself between your thighs, his fingers parting your folds as his tongue flicks against your clit.

📚 He takes his time, savoring the taste of you. His tongue darts in and out of your pussy, his lips sucking and nibbling at your most sensitive areas.

📚 You grip his hair, pushing him closer to your core. You're so close to cumming, your legs shaking from the intensity.

📚 His mouth is glistening with your juices. He leans down and kisses you, pulling back to look at you. Leaving you to taste yourself.

📚 He guides his cock inside you, filling you up with one hard thrust. You moan, the sound of his balls slapping against your skin making you even more turned on.

📚 He fucks you harder than usual, his hips snapping into yours over and over again. He knows exactly what to do to make you cum, and he's not afraid to push you over the edge and then some.

📚 You cum, leaving a white ring at the base of his cock and a smile on his face.

::: MIKEY :::

🍙 He wakes you up by pressing his morning wood against your ass.

🍙 You smirk and reach back to grab a handful of his dick, stroking it until he groans. You can feel him throbbing and growing in your grip.

🍙 Mikey grabs a bunch of your hair and pulls your head back to expose your neck so he can dive in and mark you up.

🍙 You let go of his cock and let him take over, his hips grinding against you as he thrusts between your thighs.

🍙 He flips you onto your back and pulls your legs over his shoulders. He presses his tip against your wetness, teasing you by rubbing it up and down your slit.

🍙 You wrap your arms around his neck and pull him closer. He slides into you in one hard thrust, his balls hitting your ass with a "clap" and you both moan out as the stretch/hug of the other's body takes over your not yet fully developed senses.

🍙 He starts thrusting, his movements fast and rough. He fucks you hard, his fingers digging into the flesh of your thighs as he holds them apart.

🍙 You can feel him throb inside you, his cock twitching as he gets closer to cumming.

🍙 Mikey doesn't say a word, neither do you. There's no need for verbal communication when you can say everything you need to with your bodies.

🍙 He cums, filling you with his hot, sticky seed. You feel it dripping down your thighs as you both walk to the shower, ready to start the day, hand in hand.

@viburnt @trevengersprincess @southside-otaku @darkstarlight82 @arlerts-angel @katkusuo @kazutora-kurokawa @bakubunny

#tokyo revengers #tokyo revengers smut #tokyo revengers x reader #tokyo revengers x you #tokyo revengers x y/n #mitsuya x reader #baji x reader #mikey x reader #mikey x you #mitsuya x you #baji x you #baji x y/n #mitsuya x y/n #mikey x y/n #tokrev x you #tokrev x reader #tokrev x y/n #tokyo rev x reader #tokyo rev smut

[st4rgzer]

now playing…MY BOY ONLY BREAKS HIS FAVORITE TOYS (spencer reid)

summary: words get spoken on a night out with a team, things don’t go as planned as a realization dawned upon spencer.

genre: fluff/angst

cw!: alcohol, public humiliation kinda

a/n: i rlly struggled with this one guys, i like how it came out even if it’s not entirely the same as the song.<3 masterlist

anyone that saw spencer right now could tell he was absolutely and irrevocably in love with you.

his puppy dog eyes traced the exposed skin of your collarbones, eyes slyly exploring your silhouette. his gaze landing on your face, your mesmerizing eyes. he glanced at your lips and thought about how sweet the lipgloss you were wearing would taste.

he tried to conceal the smile that was stretching across his face, putting all his efforts in averting his eyes from you. which was probably the most difficult thing he had done ever (…)

you were invited to go out with the team, by penelope. spencer giddily awaited your arrival. glancing over at the bar entrance every time a person came in, his heart racing when he saw someone enter. only to be disappointed when he saw that the person was, in fact, not you.

yet another opening of the door could be heard, and spencer turned his head lazily. slightly dazed from the few drinks he had. his eyes practically doubled in size as he saw you walking in. you looked around a few times before setting your gaze to the group of friends stood by a table. your smile was contagious. by the time you arrived at the table, spencer’s cheeks hurt.

“hey, pretty boy’s been waiting for you all night” derek grinned. spencer shot him a glare.

“no i have not!-“ he stuttered, foolishly struggling to look at you in the eyes, though he really, really wanted to.

you smiled, rolling your eyes at derek’s play fighting with spencer.

“okay okay, who’s getting drinks with me?” you laughed, looking at spencer specifically. he smiled like a kid who just received a new shiny toy, glancing up at you with a bewitched smile.

“i’ll go” spencer spoke, his tone lacking confidence. following you like a lost pup, a soft smile still plastered on his face.

“hey looks like the genius is finally makin’ a move”

“go get her tiger!”

collective catcalls and words of encouragement toward spencer were heard from the table, voices becoming more faint as spencer and you went deeper into the crowd.

“assholes” you laughed, making the air immediately lighter. a trait that spencer admired, amongst many others.

“huh? oh! yeah ignore them, they’re- stupid…” he stumbled over his words, coming out faster than his brain could think. it’s funny how his IQ of 187 could easily be sliced in half when being met with you.

you laughed, nodding in agreement.

“so, what’re you having?” you asked, tilting your head slightly. you noticed how pretty spencer’s featured looked, illuminated by the dim light, accentuating the carvings of his cheekbones.

“i’ve already had something, i don’t drink much” he said quietly, afflicted by the fact that he just turned down your offer.

“but whatever you drink, it’s on me” he looks up, a smile in his voice as he sees a grin form on your face.

“really? you don’t have to do that” you laugh, looking down. you are incredibly thankful for the lights in the bar being to dim, or else you’d have no chance at hiding the tint that was creeping up your cheeks.

“yeah yeah it’s fine, really, it’s on me” he say’s chivalrously. you nod, kissing his cheek lightly and muttering a ‘thank you’ before smiling and leaning on the counter to order.

spencer swore to god his heart stopped. he blinked a few times with wide eyes to make sure it wasn’t just a figment of his imagination. a lingering effect of his intoxication. no, it was real.

you sipped on a martini, nodding to spencer for him to follow you back to the table, where emily and jj were dancing not very far away (and definitely not very far apart) penelope was flirting with derek, and rossi and hotch were doing typical rossi and hotch things.

your face twisted in confusion as the team diverted their attention to reid, looking at him with a mix of pride from morgan, and wonder from the rest of the team.

“you got something there pretty boy” derek pointed to his cheek. spencer rubbed the side of his face, being met with a slightly red stained hand.

you covered your mouth, a laugh threatening to come out.

“sorry spence” was all your could muster without giggling. Spencer looked terrified, a slight pink tint painting his face.

the whole team broke out in laughter, friendly heat of course. but spencer didn’t seem to enjoy the little scene he’d made, he turned and started walking swiftly toward the bar. you tried chasing after him, after realizing he was the only one not laughing. but it was too late as he disappeared into the crowd of drunk dancing people.

you sighed, turning towards the team.

“guys.” you looked at them with a warning expression as their laughter slowly faded. you skipped to were you thought spencer would be. finding him sat at the bar with a glass of water, and his chin resting on his hand

“hey…sorry about that” you said, sitting next to him. closer than usual.

“it’s fine” he gave you a tight lipped smile, clearing his throat and avoiding your eyes. your heart ached, knowing the embarrassment you had probably caused him, and knowing his history with public humiliation. even if they were his friends, it was still wrong.

you reached and placed your hand on his shoulder, giving him a reassuring squeeze. you felt him tense underneath your touch.

“i’m sorry, really. i didn’t know you had the lipstick and-“ spencer interrupted you , which took you by surprise.

“it’s not that y/n, do you not understand? you are selfish. do you like making fun of me melting under you? do you actually like me or is it just fun to just watch me.” his words were fast and sharp. your brows furrowed and tears pricked your waterline. spencer’s eyes widened after he realized the full blown confession slash burst he just had.

you were his best friend, he trusted you with his life and viceversa. and he was making you cry, all because of his frustration with himself. his love life was not your problem.

“y/n, i didn’t mean it, i- i’m sorry i-“ he stuttered nervously, desperately wishing to reach for your face and wipe the first tear that fell.

“no its fine” you spoke, quietly, so your voice was less doomed to breaking. not only did his harsh words sting, it was incredibly heartbreaking to realize what you had been doing, and how it affected him.

you decided to walk out of the bar, spencer heading after you. the cold air hit your face, shivering at the sudden contact with your skin.

“please- y/n” spencer pleaded. barging out the bar chasing after you.

“spencer, i get it, i’m sorry” you yelled, a bit more loudly than you’d like. you felt frustrated at the fact that he thought you were simply making fun of him. he was your person, quiet console in the middle of the night, there when you most needed him. of course you inevitably fell stupidly in love with him.

“i don’t do any of those things to hurt you. i would never do anything to hurt you, and spencer, i’m so sorry if i did. i’m in love with you. and not just in a best friend way, in a way in which i want my bed to feel empty when you’re not there, i want to be able to kiss you and say how gorgeous you are in any given moment. and- i’m sorry if you don’t feel the same but i-“ you sighed, exasperated and out of breath from the drunken confession.

a minute passed and it felt more like eternity as you awaited for his response, or at least a sign of rejection or approval, anything.

“well, say something!” you threw your hands up in the air, breathing out.

spencer’s mouth opened to talk but nothing came out. he was still coming to terms with your reciprocated feelings toward him. and then his mind began to spiral, it all went downhill from there.

his palms began to sweat despite the cold breeze that sent shivers down your spine.

“i’m in love with you too. i love you, and i have for quite some time” he spoke too calmly, as if he was warning you about what was to come next.

“but we can’t be together. not right now. not with me.” he spoke crudely, trying to distance himself from you, hesitation coursing through his veins. he couldn’t blame the alcohol this time after the confession sobered him up. he was scared, but the terror that came from the idea of losing you because of him? no. even if you were eternally infuriated with him, at least you weren’t in front of him with a gun to your head.

you swallow a lump in your throat, making it hard to speak, hard to breathe.

“but, why?” you ask, awaiting for a worthy response that justified the worst sentence he could’ve ever uttered: ‘we can’t be together’.

“we can’t. it’s too difficult, my job is too difficult.” he had placed an invisible barrier between the two of you. refusing to look at you, and the damage he’d done.

‘There was danger in the heat of my touch

He saw forever so he smashed it up’

“but-“ you were rudely interrupted by the sound of the bar door opening, presenting a very drunken group of people. who just so happened to be your friends, watching you and spencer have this tense conversation, or at least the aftermath of it.

you closed your eyes for a few seconds, trying to regain your composure. spencer and hotch were the designated drivers. you decided to head home in the car where the driver wasn’t the guy you had just confessed to and had given you a pathetic response. you could see spencer look at you as you got into the car, a puzzling expression hard to decode on his face.

‘my boy only breaks his favorite toys.’

as you headed home, the quiet voice ringed in the back of your head, threatening to call him. for you to insist on a worthy response, an explanation to his unwillingness. instead you just laid in bed, your covers acting as a shield to everything in the exterior that could hurt you. you still wished that your bed felt empty. and that spencer would be the missing piece.

‘and I'll tell you that he runs

because he loves me.

cause you should've seen him, when he first saw me.’

taglist: @ilovesadiesink @sp3ncelle

*comment to be added!*

#spencer reid fluff #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid #spencer reid angst #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds #criminal minds fic

[flight0fthenavigat0r]

A Goodbye to The Bad Batch

I don’t even know what to say first. Because this is goodbye, but it is also everything but. But I suppose I should start at the beginning.

Just a couple of years ago I found my love for Star Wars. My entire life, as far back as I can remember, my dad has tried to get me into the fandom. Now, he’s not a fan the exact same way some of us are, he’d only watched the saga and the Mandalorian, funnily enough I was the one to introduce him to The Clone Wars and beyond, but it’s been a joy in his life for a very long time. I was never interested in it when I was little, but then I got a little older and Star Wars started to capture my interest.

One random weekend, I believe in 2021 or 2022, I decided that I was going to watch all nine saga movies in those forty-eight hours, and then start on my goal to watch every show and the additional movies.

This is, without a shred of doubt, one of the greatest decisions I have ever made, and one that I will never regret. I would not be the person I am had I not given Star Wars a chance.

It would sound ridiculous to anyone anywhere else, but this has become such a safe place for me that I know I can be honest.

Everyone finds that one thing that makes them happy like nothing else. A person, a hobby, a place, a fandom. Mine is the galaxy far, far away that lets me escape from my life whenever I need to.

The Star Wars fandom has its faults, and there is so much hatred.

But more than anything, there is love like no love I have ever experienced before. The love between fans and our love for these movies and shows is something I never expected to have in my life. But somehow, for some reason, it has all found a permanent place in my heart, and I couldn’t be happier.

At this time, the first season of The Bad Batch had just been released. I was branching out, watching The Clone Wars and then jumping to The Book of Boba Fett, though I’m not sure why I chose to watch everything in such a completely random order.

But then I started The Bad Batch.

I had no idea what Crosshair, Tech, Wrecker, Hunter, Echo, and Omega would come to mean to me.

I have dealt with a lot in the last few years. Nothing compared to others, but depression finds a way to wedge into your life. I love to be alone, but I don’t like to be lonely, and I have managed to isolate myself to a point of misery.

I found more comfort in The Bad Batch than anything else in my life, and I will never forget the joy The Bad Batch brought me in these last few years.

I began to write when I found Star Wars, and I was inspired to do so by The Bad Batch. Before, I had never felt so compelled by any one piece of media to add my own part of it to the world, until this. Writing has become another escape, one that gives me an outlet to continue the stories of characters left behind.

What I already knew has been reaffirmed, the lessons I have learned remain with me, and will even after this is over.

That it’s okay to feel afraid, because everyone does, and to make mistakes, provided you learn from them.

That feeling out of place for one reason or another does not make you unworthy of love, and having limitations with affection isn’t something you need to apologize for.

That being goofy, having fun, finding joy in the dark places, is just as vital a part of life as anything else, if not what we need more than anything.

That taking time for yourself, to make sure you don’t fall apart, even while taking care of others, is important.

That our worst moments can be one of two things, what consumes us, or what we grow from.

That being a young woman is not a detriment to your worth, intelligence, talent, or any other aspect of life, but is in fact what makes you strongest.

That what makes us unique and our faults are a part of who we are, but they do not define us, and we are so much more than the ideas people have of us.

My only regret is not making friends when I had the chance. I’m bad at that, opening up and putting myself out there, and I shy away from talking to new people because it makes me uncomfortable. But I wish I had been able to put that aside before it was too late and found people who love The Bad Batch the way I do to continue talking to, even after the show ends.

But to all the people who have supported me and who I have supported, thank you for being part of my Bad Batch experience.

It's very difficult to believe that this is it.

Though The Bad Batch has not been around long, it feels like it has, because as long as I have been watching Star Wars, The Bad Batch has been in its active run, and I’m so grateful I got to be here when it was.

I know that even when the credits roll for the final time, when the greater fandom forgets the show that they never really understood the way we have, I’ll be here, and hopefully, so will all of you. I think that the family brought together by The Bad Batch will endure, even if we go quiet for a while.

We’ll stick around, for the day the Batch comes back. Because I know they will.

Thank you Clone Force 99, the Bad Batch fandom, Dee Bradley Baker, Michelle Ang, the Kiners, and everybody who played a part in telling this story.

The impact The Bad Batch has had on my life has been profound, and I wouldn’t give it up for anything. It’s been a wild ride, and I have enjoyed every second of it. It has been a privilege to be a part of this piece in the ever growing history that makes up Star Wars.

Goodbye, Bad Batch. Until next time.

“Change takes getting used to. You’ll see. Just give it time.”

#star wars #the bad batch #tbb #star wars the bad batch #sw tbb #star wars tbb #sw the bad batch #the bad batch season 3 #tbb crosshair #crosshair tbb #crosshair bad batch #tbb tech #tech tbb #tech bad batch #tbb wrecker #wrecker tbb #wrecker bad batch #tbb hunter #hunter tbb #hunter bad batch #tbb echo #echo tbb #echo bad batch #tbb omega #omega tbb #omega bad batch

[sissylittlefeather]

Hi Sissy! If it’s not too late, could you do a Fic of Elvis based on the song “Help Me Make It Through the Night?” Like Elvis and you know you’re not good for each other, but you can’t stay away. Can develop into smut but if you’d prefer not, that’s okay too! If it’s too late, I completely understand! Thank you! 😊

@peaceloveelvis Hi! Definitely not too late! First of all, this is one of my most favorite songs. I actually have a series planned to go with this song later, so stay tuned. But also, I haven't written anything without smut in a LONG TIME. This one came out this way and I might revisit it to expand on the smut later if there's interest, but I kind of like it without it. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this ficlet!

Help Me Make It Through the Night

Warnings: none really, cussing, mentions of sex

------------------------------------------------------

Elvis has been a part of your life since you met him during his Timex special with Frank Sinatra. The only thing you did more than make love relentlessly was fight endlessly. The nights were hot, but the mornings never failed to conclude with both of you yelling and at least one of you crying. There was no end to the way you loved each other or the way you managed to drive each other insane. There was always something to fight about and you left each other every time swearing you'd never be together again. But somehow, you'd end up in the same place and before you knew it you were naked in an elevator or in his backseat or in a bathroom or a hotel bed in some sketchy by-the-hour kind of place. Even after he got married, you didn't stop. Your pattern of fucking and fighting stayed the same.

In 1969, though, you had a particularly spirited tryst that ended with both of you saying things you regretted almost instantly. But you were both too stubborn to admit it, so instead you threw a shoe at him and screamed at him to get out and he called you a name and swore he'd never end up in your bed again. This time, the pain you caused cut so deep that you both insisted you'd never give in again. It was over, for real this time. The hurt was too much to make the good times worth it.

So, you did what any self-respecting woman would do. You married someone else.

When he heard about it, he broke an end table and all the things sitting on it in a fit of rage and jealousy and something else he was afraid to admit.

On your wedding night, you cried yourself to sleep with your new husband snoring quietly next to you in the bed.

Then, in 1971, you find yourself walking down the street and come upon a loud and frantic crowd. Your curiosity gets the better of you and you look to see what all the commotion is about. The crowd parts like ill-meaning clouds and he looks up at just the wrong moment.

His blue eyes pierce you straight through to your soul, even from across the street. Something inside you jumps and your hand goes to your throat. Memories of every time you've ever been together slam into you like a freight train and you're somewhere between ecstasy and wanting to die. By the look on his face, you can tell he's experiencing something similar. Everything inside you is screaming at you to go to him, but you feel the cold little ring on your finger and know that you can't. You turn and walk away as quickly as you can. He fights to get away from the crowd around him, but by the time he does, you're gone.

******

You're pacing the floor of your living room when the phone rings. Even several hours later, you haven't recovered from your encounter. You pick the phone up aggressively, annoyed to be distracted by the call.

"Hello?"

"Mr. Presley would like you to meet him tonight at the Presidential Motel at 11pm." Your blood runs cold.

"Why?" The line clicks with no answer. He's left the ball in your court and you hate it. You won't meet him. You just won't. He's impossible.

But at 10:45pm you're in your car. You've spent the last several hours trying to remind yourself of all the reasons you hate him. You finally decide you're going to see him just to tell him that you don't care what he says; you were serious last time. This is not a thing anymore and it never will be again.

At 11:06pm, you sit in the parking lot of the motel, a battle raging inside you.

"This is stupid." You mutter, finally getting out of the car. At the desk, you ask which room Mr. John Burrows is staying in. The clerk tells you and you stomp towards his room getting more and more angry as you walk. The nerve of him to think he can just summon you like this.

You pound on the door with every ounce of rage your body can contain flowing through you. The door opens slowly and your heart skips. Why does he have to look so good?

"You came."

"What the fuck could you possibly want to say to me?! The last time you saw me you called me a whore and said you'd rather swallow a knife than see me again. So, whatever you have to-"

"I miss you."

"You... what?" He speaks again slowly and deliberately.

"I miss you." It feels like your stomach has fallen to your kneecaps. "I'm lonely, honey."

"Call your wife."

"Will ya just... no. I want you."

"Have you forgotten-"

"No, I haven't. And I'm sorry." He's never apologized to you before. You stand in stunned silence just outside the door.

"You're-"

"Sorry. Yes. Now, will you come in please?" You stand there completely lost. Finally, he grabs your arm and drags you into the room, shutting the door behind you.

"What the hell, Elvis?!" He pulls you close to him and presses his lips to yours. For a second, you melt into him. Then, you remember why you were mad and pull away angrily.

"No, I'm not-" He pulls you in again, wrapping his arms around you and kissing you more deeply this time. You fight to get away, but he holds you tightly. Eventually you're able to escape his grasp and you push him backwards. He goes to grab you again and you slap him across the face. Your hands go to your mouth in shock and he looks at you stunned.

"Oh god, I'm-"

"I guess I deserved that." He walks to the bed and sits down. "You actually hate me, don't you?"

You stand there for a few seconds before sitting down beside him on the bed.

"No. I don't. But we said this was done."

"I know. I'm just... I'm alone, honey. And I miss you so much it hurts worse than being with you." You look at him, but he won't meet your eyes. It comes to you that he must be pretty desperate to put himself in this position.

"You're alone?"

"You know how it gets for me. There's people everywhere, but I just... I miss you."

"Why me?" He rolls his eyes and looks at you finally.

"You gonna make me say it?"

"Yes. If you want me to stay here, then-"

"I love you. I've been in love with you since I met you. You're the only one I want when I feel like this and it's been so long-" You reach out and put your hand on his knee and he looks down at it, setting his on top of yours, gently wrapping his fingers around yours.

You're used to these vulnerable moments from him. They're what has brought you together over and over throughout the years. So when he breaks down and sobs, you pull him into your arms and hold him without thinking. Somehow you end up lying in the bed with him cuddled tightly against you, head on your chest. You stroke his hair and hum quietly. This is a familiar position for the two of you and you've missed it more than you care to admit.

Eventually, his breathing evens out and you realize he's fallen asleep. You kick your shoes off and snuggle in to spend the night. As angry as you were, you can't deny him what he needs because the truth is you love him too and you always have. You kiss his forehead and hold him tightly. You've missed this too.

******

In the morning, you make love and it's sweet and sensual and exactly what you've both been needing. And this time you don't fight. Somewhere in the year you were apart, you grew. The love that you have is more important than anything that might separate you.

And as you lay naked together, the world opens up for you. He talks about leaving his wife and you decide your husband will be better off without you.

Will it happen? Will you finally find a way to be together in a way that works for you both? You don't know.

But you made it through this night together. Something tells you that you can make it through anything now.

******

The end?

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

#elvis presley #elvis presley fanfiction #elvis fanfic #elvis #elvis presley fic #elvis presley x reader #elvis x reader #elvis fanfiction #elvis presley x y/n #elvis fluff #elvis fic #elvis x y/n #elvis x you #elvis presley fanfic #elvis presley fluff #elvis presley x you

[botanicadrabbles]

Hydrangeas'

Lucifer X Reader

Warning: Hanahaki, Blood mention.

Part 2

Word count: 1,027

Keeping it a secret was the hard part, sure you’re used to keeping things to yourself but avoiding Lucifer. The way he’d look at you with those soft eyes almost lost in desperation and longing, he wanted to talk to you multiple times but you’d turn the other way.

Now a days you barely left your room, when you did all you could hear was Charlie talking about her mother. She has every right you tell yourself, it’s not your fault you’re in this predicament.

It wasn’t her fault Lucifer refused to share what was your relationship to her. It wasn’t her fault Lucifer refused to acknowledge what you where or share measly little kisses and notions that where important to a relationship.

Over the last month you’d come to realise it wasn’t his fault either, you desperately wanted it to be. But you knew better.

Emotions where difficult, hell you barely knew how to control your own emotions. You couldn’t blame him for not knowing how to really understand emotions, you even knew why he was so distant..

The first time he loved someone it cost him everything and in the end she left. You felt stupid, guilt for thinking he didn’t want to love you.. Clearly you where paying the price.

More blood spilt from your lips, you spent most days in your bathroom now. Vomiting and becoming increasingly more pale. What used to use be small amount of petals and blood had turned into a small blossiming flower and harsher amounts of blood spilt.

You where so tired. Looking over to the alarm clock sitting where your body soap was ment to be you saw the time 3:00am. You had made a make shift bed in your bathroom, too tired to move much.

Hearing hushed whispers at your door you slowly collected yourself and dragged your heavy body across your room, it felt like you where dragging chained balls across the floor. You eyes wanting to shut.

Blanket wrapped loosely around you, you opened the door.

Angeldust…Husk… Huh…

“Hello?” you asked your voice voming out quieter and weaker than you had expected, Angel looked at you seemingly as if he had seen a ghost and for the first time you swear you can see Husk looking worried.

“Are you pregnant?” Angel asks, your eyes go wide in shock and take a moment to respond, seeing Husk look perplexed Angel had so confidently and shamelessly ask. “I don’t think so?” you asked raising an eyebrow confused. “Oh thank the heavens-...-Can you say that here?” Angel would say looking around to see if he got any confirmation.

Seeing no one else down the darkened and honestly terrifying hallway in the night you where grateful not wanting people to see you in such a condition.

“Why do you look so awful than?” Once again Angel asked so confidently as if shame just bounced off of him like a bouncy ball. You didn’t know what to really say about it all so you just shrugged, “Maybe a flu? Not to sure- could be contagious though-” you said trying to close the door.

You should have known better when Husk just pushed the door open, both of the two men walking in “Welcome in then” you said wanting to sink into the floor and allow it swallow you whole. You had no strength left to fight them as they investigated your room before finally finding their way into the bathroom where they found your secret out.

“Oh y/n/n…” Angel said pitying you, you hated that. Please anything but pity. You stomach turned more when you saw even Husk was looking at you with the same expression.

“Please just…Don’t tell anyone” You said closing your eyes, desperately wanting to just rest. They agreed, but over the course of the next few days Angel and Husk would alternate getting you food, drinks, medicine to help with the pain (in Angel’s case drugs) and any form of entertainment they could.

They didn’t want to force you to say who it was but could safely assume it wasn’t either of the because while they where there and distracting you, your symptoms seemed to lessen. They put all their free time into making sure your mind was too busy to think about who ever it was that was causing that pain.

You could here people talking outside your door a lot as if they knew something was wrong now but could always hear Husk and Angel telling them you just need some space and just going through a tough time.

It wasn’t really a bad thing.

You just wish they’d lay off on telling you about how Lucifer was bugging them for information on you. You where also surprised how they hadn’t quite figured out who it was. The one time Angel ever asked who it was, was a joke and more with the hope it wasn’t Alastor as there was no hope for that.

Angel was fixated on trying to play cupid while Husk would constantly tell him to lay off, you appreciated them and became better and better friends as this situation continued.

Another month passed and he couldn’t take it anymore, he had to see you.. You where asleep.. He was okay with that. His hand came to brush hair away from your face as he looked over you.

He admired you, to him you where art. Something to look at from a distance and not touch, he was terrified of what it could mean, the way you make him feel. He desired you so desperately but was afraid of corrupting you, changing you..Making you leave.

He didn’t notice anything, he was there one moment and gone before you could wake up. You could swear you felt him there but took it as a symptom of the Hanahaki. It was a horrible disorder it was…

That night you couldn’t go back to sleep, eventually sneaking off to Angel and Husk’s room and sleeping between the two as if they where your parents and you had, had a nightmare.

You couldn’t face Lucifer.. Not yet.

Maybe tomorrow.

#lucifer x reader #hazbin hotel x reader #lucifer magne #hazbin lucifer #hazbin hotel lucifer #lucifer hazbin hotel #x reader #angst #hanahaki

[hotpinkstars]

GIRL DAD OR BOY DAD? - sunday, boothill x reader

- or more clearly, to what gender would they want to have more, and general headcannons of them as papas ☺️

- brainrot brainrot brainrot BRAINROT AHHH... i love these guys and i can do a part 2 for others later but godd theres absolutely not enough dad stuff for these men (especially sunday... if there is its all yandere) so never fear novas here! ahem anyways enjoy

- warnings none! pure fluff!!! wc 711

Sunday is so a girl and boy dad.

Reason why I say this is because he likely needs an heir to take over his position when he gets too old to do so, but he also wants a baby girl he can spoil as well.

Don’t worry! He loves both of his kids the same! They’re the greatest things that have probably ever happened to him and he cherishes them with his whole life. He thanks the stars above every single day for the opportunity he received to be a father to multiple beautiful children, and thanks you for granting him the chance. 

Dunno, but I could see this man wanting a handful of kids. He wants at least one girl and at least one boy, but I could see him shooting for 3-4. Will he be around to care for them? Not all the time, but he tries his hardest (and he definitely has the resources to care for that many).

Considering they’re half halovian and half human, they look pretty much just like their father! Some have your eyes, but they all have his hair. His hair and his gorgeous wings. They have your features though, such as your face, body type, etc.

His favorite part of the day is when he gets to collapse on your shared bed, his kiddos following behind him to cuddle their dad, and most of the time you all fall asleep together. Normally, you wake up just you and him because he’s good about putting them in their own bed once they fall asleep.

Once his kids get older, he’ll teach his son(s) combat and good form. He wants them to protect, and wants to raise them to be strong and independent. With his daughter(s), if they ask to be taught combat, then he won’t see much of an issue with it. He also wants to teach them independence, but in a more subtle form. 

Just expect that his children as teenagers are going to be the prettiest kids around holy shit. They’re obviously enrolled in a private school due to their fathers high status but they always come home and list the compliments they’ve received that day. Thankfully you two have raised them well enough for them to realize that it’ll be bad if all of these get to their head and stroke their ego too hard…

Supportive father asf! All I’ve gotta say here

Don’t play Boothill is SO a girl dad hello have you met the man

He’s so excited when his little girl is born ahh he’s always dreamed of being a father to a girl and his dream has officially come true!!

Obviously, if you had a boy, he’d love him the same. He just wants children of his own tbh lol

His daughter knows western culture fresh out of the womb my friend. It’s like she was born for little cowboy boots and the cutest little cowboy hat. She’s even got a western name, he brought it up and you liked it, so the name you two settled on was Cassidy.

She has his hair! It’s absolutely gorgeous once it starts coming in- a pearly white color with little black streaks stemming from the roots. She has your eyes and your face, and his slimmer body type (before he was turned into a cyborg. This isn’t canon I actually have no clue what he looked like pre cyborgification lmao).

Oh lord, your daughter is so spoiled. On every mission he goes on he’s always bringing something back for her. It could be a super fancy necklace or even just a little trinket he picked up from a street vendor, but she has a whole shelf full of the things her daddy gives her.

She thinks it’s so cool he has a metal body. She asks about it alot but she’s really fascinated with it tbh. She likes to call it “daddy’s special feature!” and he always melts to that sentence gosh

He probably teaches his daughter how to use a gun when she gets older. He, similar to Sunday, wants his daughter to learn self defense tactics and learn how to fend for herself when necessary.

She totally has his accent. Change my mind period.

#honkai star rail x reader #honkai star rail #hsr #hsr x reader #honkai #honkai x reader #sunday #sunday hsr #boothill #boothill hsr #boothill x reader #sunday x reader

[yourheart-inmyhands]

Hello, I'm the one who requested the Freminent and accidentally forgotten Zhongli with a S/o who has cute aggression towards them. If there is no issue could you also do the same for Zhongli, it's okay if not btw. (Also I loved the original with just Fremi)

hi hi! i'm glad to see you came back :D sorry for the wait, i usually end up writing late at night so i apologize for missing him the first time, here he is now though! i hope you enjoy :3c

Warning: this post contains yandere-themes, including obsessive behavior, mentions of starting forest fires, mentions of destroying cities, and other potential topics. Please read at your own risk!

Zhongli has seen a lot in his many, many years but this was… well this behavior was rather new to him. He had heard often the great lengths one would go to show their love and devotion to him back when he was still the Geo Archon, but to have his darling say they’d set all of Sumeru on fire was startling.

It isn’t to say he doesn’t like it, he’s quite flattered by it all, but you can expect constant reassurance from him that you aren’t actually going to do this. You- you wouldn’t actually start a forest fire, would you? Zhongli needs that little reminder every so often that you aren’t actually plotting such things, just using them as examples for expressing your intense feelings towards him.

Wanting to share in this cute behavior of yours, Zhongli starts vocalizing his love and affection for you as well. Instead of mimicking your cute aggression though, he uses historical quotes and references. You don’t always get them, but the delighted smile on his face whenever he says them to you, following your cute aggression comments is enough to have you falling in love with them anyways.

“I love you so much I could knock down all of Liyue with my bare hands.” Zhongli smiles at your comment, an adoring look on his face as his hands come up to gently cup yours. His thumbs brush over your cheeks, a shimmer of love in his eyes as he stares at you.

“Hear my soul speak. Of the very instant that I saw you, Did my heart fly at your service.” Zhongli’s words are smooth, falling from his lips in the same poetic manner they were written and memorized. Loving you comes easy to him, something that seems ingrained in his being as much as breathing has become. You make him feel human, make him feel like he can be soft and tender like one. Around you, Zhongli feels like he can love.

A lot of times his quotes sorta go over your head and that’s ok, he’s happy to repeat them as many times as you need or to sit down and explain what they mean to you. It just gives him a reason to spend even more time with you, something of which he adores.

If you ever showed deeper interest in any of his expressions of love, do know he would be more than happy to share whatever literature he found them in. Going through old books, reading and acting out long-forgotten plays, what was once a key token of history that now sits dusty on the shelves, he adores doing it all with you. Zhongli is such a hopeless romantic when it comes to you, he just adores you so much and cannot stand to ever be apart from you for long.

#genshin x reader #genshin x male reader #genshin x gender neutral reader #yandere genshin x reader #yandere genshin x male reader #yandere genshin x gender neutral reader #zhongli x reader #zhongli x male reader #zhongli x gender neutral reader #yandere zhongli x reader #yandere zhongli x male reader #yandere zhongli x gender neutral reader #yandere genshin #yandere zhongli #zhongli yandere #genshin yandere

[morganski-19]

part 1, part 2

Dustin visits the next day, sitting next to Wayne with the same book he’s had for the past few days. Turning to the page that was dog-eared, reading. Voices and all. Just like Eddie does when he’s practicing for one of those campaigns. Claiming that it’s better to get it down with someone else’s words so he can improvise. So he doesn’t have to memorize some script and can be in the moment. Let his mind do the workings along with the players. 

It’s one of the many parts of Eddie that Wayne sees in this kid. The dramatics, the drive. The snobbiness about certain things that don’t really matter to the rest of the world. But it matters to them, so it matters to the people who care about them too. 

If Eddie were awake, he might yell at the kid for turning the corner of a page instead of using a bookmark. Even though all the books he gets are second-hand and already torn and bent in all sorts of ways. But it’s about keeping the art pristine. The author put their heart and soul into this work, it’s not meant to be sullied. Wayne saw Eddie bend the corner of a page a million times over though, he just likes making a big stink about nothing. Just to get a rise out of people, make them laugh. Wayne can imagine that Eddie liked to make Dustin laugh a lot. 

“Have the doctors said anything new?” Dustin asks after finishing the chapter. 

Wayne shakes his head. “Same old, same old. Don’t worry about it too much though, he wouldn’t want you to.”

“He wouldn’t want a lot of the things that happened over the past week. So he’ll have to deal with it.” After a pause, he asks, “How are you doing?”

That makes Wayne laugh. “You don’t have to go worryin’ about me either. You’re just a kid.”

“And you’re just a man waiting for your kid to wake up. The same way I’m waiting for my friend to wake up. At the end of the day, we’re all still people. That sometimes need a break. So, how are you doing?”

It’s scary how much Wayne sees Eddie in this kid. “It’s hard comin’ here to hear the same thing every day.” That’s all Wayne’s willing to say to a kid. 

Hard is definitely a word most people would use to describe his situation. Difficult, disheartening. Maybe even hopeless. But there’s still some hope in this old heart that keeps Wayne coming back day in and day out. Keeps him moving while only getting a few hours of sleep a day. Cause as soon as the night comes around, it’s right back to the plant. Making the money to pay for the care his boy needs to keep living. To pay for the roof over his own head enough so he’ll live to see it happen. 

Truth is, Wayne’s dying here. From the fatigue. From the endless waiting. From the slowly draining pool of hope. Nothing seems to change. Nothing gets better. Six days in a medically induced coma with no hopes of ever waking up. Wayne’s not dumb enough to think that the chances increase the more days pass without him showing any signs of improvement. 

Part of him says that this is the state Eddie will be in for the rest of his life. Wonders if it’s worth all of this just to keep him alive. If he’s really suffering in there and would be better off resting forever. But then the heart monitor keeps beeping and his brain is still active. Wayne’s boy is still in there, he’ll come back soon. 

“Yeah, I bet that’s hard. I still have hope though, I was there when he came in. He looks a lot better now.”

There’s a knock on the door that keeps Wayne from responding. It’s the Harrington boy, in normal clothes this time. Discharged. 

“Sorry to interrupt but your mom said it’s time to go home.”

Dustin dramatically rolls his eyes. “Which one, my actual mother or you?”

“Your actual mother, but I happen to agree with her. Come on, you got school in the morning.” Harrington crosses his arms, looking like he’s ready to start a standoff. 

But instead of fighting Dustin stands. “Have a good night Mr. Munson. I’ll still try to visit as much as I can even though school’s starting back up again.”

“Thanks, kid, I’ll try.”

Harrington ruffles Dustin’s hair as he walks out the doorway. Standing there for a beat before turning back to Wayne. “We’ve never officially met, I’m Steve.”

Steve holds out his hand, waiting for Wayne to shake it. Wayne debates whether that’s a good idea or not. Apparently, it takes too long as Steve returns his hand to his side. 

“I wanted to apologize for the scene I made the other day, you didn’t deserve that. I was just so shocked that they actually cuffed him to the bed. Still have him cuffed to the bed.” Steve looks at Eddie with a guilt that Wayne doesn’t understand. Like he’s the reason Eddie’s strapped to the bed. 

Wayne continues to say nothing, not quite sure what would be appropriate. Tell him that it’s ok, that it didn’t bother him. Or thank him for believing that Wayne knew was true. That his boy was innocent. 

There was more to this story than he knew. Something to do with the kid being there and the rich boy standing in the doorway looking like this is all his fault. When Wayne knows the same scars mark Steve just as much as they do Eddie. Steve made sure that everyone knew that. Using it as proof that Steve was there, and that Eddie was innocent. 

Steve was ready to offer himself up as a witness for a man that the town hates. Wayne should be grateful for that, but it doesn’t seem right. They were part of different worlds. Different status, interests. It didn’t make sense for them to be in the same place at all. Yet here they are supposedly having gone through the same vicious attack. 

“Let me know if you need anything,” Steve continues when Wayne stays silent. “I’m more than happy to help out. Eddie was kind of a new friend and I hate seeing him like this as much as you do.”

“I seriously doubt that,” Wayne snaps. He hates charity, especially from this kid. For some reason he doesn’t really understand why. 

Steve is taken aback. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to offend.”

“I’m sure you didn’t, but you did. I know my boy and I know how my boy thinks about people like you. So don’t go ‘round gaining sympathy points from the real people who are suffering.”

“I, I wasn’t,” Steve stammers. “I would never.”

“Steve,” Dustin yells. “Get your ass moving, we’re your ride too.”

Steve sighs. “Coming, Jesus. I’m sorry for offending you. I won’t bother you again.”

Wayne shakes his head when Steve leaves, letting out a deep sigh. Maybe he was too harsh, maybe he wasn’t harsh enough. He’s not sure. 

He’s not sure about a lot of things anymore.

tag list, let me know if you want to be added or removed: @the-they-who-nerded, @insteviewetrust, @croatoan-like-its-hot, @jettestar, @tinyplanet95, @steddie-as-they-go, @slv-333, @littlecelestialmoth, @thatonebadideapanda, @fandomsanddeath, @marismorar, @wonderland-girl143-blog, @glass-bottle03, @gutterflower77, @here4thetrama, @goodolefashionedloverboi, @jaytriesstuff, @cryptid-system, @manda-panda-monium, @resident-gay-bitch, @anaibis, @xxsutherlandxx, @forevermineliv, @mugloversonly, @gregre369, @n0-1-important, @different-tale-student, @spectrum-spectre, @tartarusknight, @devondepresso, @swimmingbirdrunningrock, @cheertain, @anti-ozzie, @autumncrocusandladybug, @greeniebean911, @cr0w-culture, @stillfullofshit, @connected-dots, @daisynotquake, @morgannotlefay, @a-little-unsteddie, @dolphincliffs,

#stranger things #stranger things fanfic #post season 4 #wayne munson #dustin henderson #steve harrington #pre steddie #eddie munson #eddie in a coma #everyone lives/nobody dies #fanfic #wayne pov

[yertle-the-turtle6678]

IM BACK AND I HAVE PERCIVER HEAD CANONS TO SHARE!!!

They meet in first year on the Hogwarts express. Percy's holding a giant book on third year divination. While this makes him a less attractive friend in the eyes of others', it's what brings Oliver Wood to the same train car as him. They introduce themselves and shake hands.

In second year, Oliver makes the Quidditch team as their keeper. Percy still spends the majority of his time indoors, but he goes to Ollie's practices and games every once in a while. After one specific game, Oliver comes back to the dorm with his breath cut short and with tears in his eyes. He stops breathing and the world goes spinning between each of his eyes; a panic attack, madame Pomphrey later describes it. The crowd triggered it.

Percy comforts him, sits on the same floor as him, rubbing the boy's back, repeating reassurance: "you're safe here,"

"You were good out there, really."

"I'll sit with you for as long as it takes."

Oliver comes to with his head on Percy's shoulder.

In third year, Percy goes to every practice and every game. He rubs Oliver's back when he returns to the dorm. When he loses for the first time, Percy has to chase him to stop him from running away, never to be found again.

"Hey, listen," Percy says, out of breath from the running. He doesn't understand how Oliver's barely breaking a sweat. "Tell me, okay? What went wrong out there?"

He gives Oliver a minute to pause and think.

Oliver gathers his thoughts and his breath. The sweat dripping down his neck fuels him, gives him energy. It clouds his head. He needs to calm down.

"I slipped on my broom." He says finally. "I wasn't planted on it properly."

"Good. What are you gonna do to fix it?" Percy replies, breathing better.

"I'll improve my grip."

"Good."

The two of them stand there, just breathing.

"Thanks."

In fourth year, they have the Yule Ball. Both of them are fifteen. Their year mates are out and about minging, asking each other out. The two of them stay where they are. They don't speak of the ball.

They go to the dance together, as friends of course. Percy keeps adjusting the collar to his hand-me-down dress robes. Oliver assures him that his attire is charming.

He sighs.

"If you had to wear these, I guarantee you'd understand me." Percy says. Over the summer his voice has changed. It's deeper and richer. Oliver loves it. Wishes he could taste it. Wishes these thoughts would go away. He grins and laughs Percy off.

When it's time to dance, they run away to a balcony that Percy didn't even know existed. They laugh and chat, making jokes at the dancers' expenses. Percy's had a bit to drink, (had he known the punch was alcoholic, he wouldn't have gone near it) and his face is flushed deep red.

"AND- and then when the-" he howls laughter. Oliver has to stop him from falling over himself.

Oliver thinks... He can't think at all. Suddenly. The two of them are so close together. He's got his arm around Percy's back and Percy's leaning against him, hands on Oliver's chest, still laughing. When he stops and catches his breath, though, the two of them seem to freeze. Oliver's heart skips a beat when he can physically feel Percy tensing up.

He kisses him.

Very awkwardly.

He made little action with his lips, just gently brushing his against the other boy's. The boy in question grins. Now it's Oliver's turn to flush deep red.

"ha-HA! No, wait, no, Oliver, wait."

Percy pulls Oliver back towards him by the arm. They're tangled with each other again, Oliver giving in to the urge to smile, just a bit, even after being embarrassed.

They kiss. Properly this time. It's the best thing Oliver's felt in his life. When they pull away, he whispers,

"Are you my boyfriend now?"

Percy smiles.

"Yes."

In fifth year, nightmares attack. O.W.Ls. Percy never sleeps anymore.

Oliver has to drag him away from his work table and force him onto his bed. When that bed later becomes repurposed for more studies, Oliver forces him onto his own bed. They sleep together and their dorm mates start getting suspicious.

Oliver sleeps in pajama bottoms and nothing else. Percy sleeps in a sweater and boxers. They spoon and Oliver rests his arm in front of Percy's only exit to stop him from crawling out of bed to study. Little does he know, Percy would never dare leave.

During the waking hours, Oliver drags Percy to other important places, such as breakfast, lunch, and dinner. The outdoors. Interaction with other human beings. It's a tough life out here for him.

When the exams finally start approaching, they do not stop making out. It's the only thing that gets Percy's mind off things. Only because there's nothing more distracting than Oliver's mouth.

To his own surprise and nobody else's, Percy passes his O.W.Ls with flying colours. Oliver passes alright despite not studying.

In sixth year it's the same for their N.E.W.Ts.

Something changes in the relationship between Percy and the rest of the student body, especially the girls. Oliver knows he's gotten taller. And his freckles have cleared enough for his gorgeous face to be visible. His voice is still as beautiful as it was in fourth year. He's started rolling up the sleeves of his sweaters, and the halls seem to swoon rapidly when they spot his forearms. Oliver always knew that Percy could have this power over people; he'd been subject to it himself. But it annoys him. And what's even worse is that Percy doesnt seem to notice when he's being flirted with.

He gets into the habit of writing on Oliver with pens, a strange Muggle device that's actually pretty nifty. Some mornings, Oliver wakes up with markings he doesn't even remember. Percy writes on his chest a lot. Draws on his collarbone. The most repeated word is Percy's name.

Oliver looks in the mirror one day, at his shirtless body.

PROPERTY OF PERCIVAL IGNATIUS WEASLEY

It says this all over his torso.

He grins. No one's stealing Percy from him anytime soon.

They pass their N.E.W.Ts.

The Summer Before Seventh Year

France is a gorgeous place, Oliver realises. Filled with gorgeous girls, too. He's lounging at the beach when one of them asks him out. He's put on the spot and exposed, wearing nothing but his swimming shorts and sunglasses. He fumbles over his words.

"Err, I mean, no..." The girl frowns. She has gorgeous eyes. "I mean, yes, sure. Is Friday at 7 PM okay with you?"

It doesn't even occur to him that she's a Muggle.

Immediately after he's uttered these words, he regrets it. But he can't stand her up. And she's already walking away. Merlin, Percy's gonna kill him.

It's just one date and Oliver doesn't even enjoy. They don't touch each other at all; they don't even hold hands. But Oliver knows what he's done, and he knows what he has to do.

He writes a letter.

I love you. I'm sorry. I couldn't live with myself if I kept it secret.

He sends it away with his black owl.

At the Burrow, Percy receives two letters back to back on his birthday. The first is from Hogwarts, confirmation that he's this year's Head Boy. He jumps around the kitchen, all dignity forgotten, and hugs his mother with an enormous grin on his face.

The second is from Oliver.

How quickly Percy's face turns sour. Mrs Weasley asks if he's okay.

Tears sting his eyes. Outside, he tells his mother everything.

One day before the start of the school year, the Weasley's are staying at the Leakey Cauldron overnight. Percy hears pebbles being thrown at his window and goes to see who it is.

Oliver Wood. Merlin.

Percy goes downstairs, striding towards his partner. Punches him in the face and immediately feels bad, but doesn't let that stop him. His voice is somewhere between a whisper and a yell and a sob,

"How could you?"

"I'm so sorry, Percy."

"Why did you do it?"

"We didn't do anything. Didn't touch her. I remember what you wrote on me."

Percy breathes in deep.

"I wasn't talking about just your body, Oliver. I was talking about you. All of you." He exhales, trying to hold himself together.

"I wouldn't think twice about rejecting some Muggle girl for you. You think I didn't notice when the whole female population at school suddenly wanted to date me? Just because of my body? I resisted them for you, Oliver. Because I love you. Why couldn't you do that for me?"

"I don't know. I'm so, so sorry."

They decide to take a break from their relationship. When they start attending school again, their dorm mates wonder why they've stopped sleeping together.

#perciver #percy weasley #oliver wood #hp #<3 #this turned very angsty indeed #wrote this from 1AM to 2AM on low battery because it needed to be written #youre welcome

[writing-whump]

Would loveeee to see hector super sick and feverish with a stomach bug where all he wants is to be comforted by Isaiah/Arnie/both- just love his softer side- pretty sure he’s a softie deep down 🤭

Hey nonny! Thank you for the request!! Found a good way to insert it. This will have a part 2 for another request hehe.

Something serious

Hector burst through the door, heading straight for the kitchen without a word of greeting.

Arnie was not taking it personally, but he was curious about what kind of hunger spree made Hector so desperate.

He got up from the couch to check. "Did you skip lunch or-?

Except Hector wasn't riding their fridge. He was braced over the kitchen sink and retching loudly.

"Oi. Okay," Arnie said with a wince as a huge gush of puke hit the bottom of the granite. "What happened to you?"

"Ate-uuurp-too fast." Hector burped up another mouthful before spitting and letting the faucet run over the mess.

"Really? Wasn't something off about the food?" Hector's speed and capacity were way too impressive for this to happen easily.

Hector swiped his wrist over his mouth, sweaty all over.

Arnie tore off a handful of kitchen towels and handed it to him.

Hector took it gratefully, mopping his face and mouth. "I was so hungry at lunch that my stomach hurt. Must have eaten too quick, cause I got queasy on the way." Hector put a hand on his belly as it whined loudly. For puking just a minute ago, his stomach looked distended, as if he was still full.

"Sure it was hunger? Maybe you were getting down with something and ate lunch on top," Arnie sighed, grabbing Hector by the elbow to steer him towards the living room. "How many times do I have to say that you shouldn't eat, when your stomach is hurting?"

Hector was feeling crappy enough to follow Arnie's guidance, flopping down on the couch and curling his hands protectively around his middle. "Ugh. Thought it would help."

Arnie rolled his eyes. "It's always the same with you—no restraint. Listening to your body's signals could have spared you from all this puking."

Hector huffed. "Stop lecturing, snotnose, and get me some water."

Arnie stuck his tongue at him, but obeyed, getting some cold water from the kitchen, checking if the sink was clean on the way.

Hector gulped down the water greedily, even as Arnie patted his hand. "Slow down, you'll make yourself sick again."

To be fair, Hector tried to slow the tempo before it picked up again. Arnie sat down next to him with a grimace. No helping that.

"You want to watch something and take it easy?" Arnie asked, putting the back of his hand to Hector's forehead. He was a little warm. "I think you should rest. Looks like a flu to me."

Hector, feeling evidently better, swatted his hand away. "And whose fault is that? You're the only flu spreader around. Damn human germs."

Arnie gave him another eye roll. "Your immunity needs some work then, if you catch things that I don't even have symptoms for."

Arnie put on a rerun of Big Bang Theory, which was usually so foreign and boring to Hector that it put him to sleep. And he was right, his older brother was snoring away, head lolling to the armrest, in a few minutes.

After two episodes, Hector stirred though, grimacing with a moan.

"You want a blanket?" Arnie asked quietly as Hector curled into himself, although he could see some more sweat beading on his neck.

"Nah. Think I'm just going to sleep this off in the bed," Hector said, not bothering to muffle a burp as he got up clumsily. His hand shot up to cradle the top of his belly like it was about to fall open.

"You sure you didn't eat something spicy at lunch?" Arnie said, watching him stumble out with another burp. "You get disgusting like that every time."

Hector gave him an angry glare. "I do not. I can handle spicy food."

Arnie snorted. "Yeah, yeah. Tell that to someone who doesn't have to live with you and hear all the consequences."

Hector grunted something crude on his way, which caused Arnie to chuckle.

It wouldn't be unusual in the slightest if he did eat something spicy and then played it off as a flu just to not feel embarrassed.

It would be fine. Hector was a grumpy patient, even if it was the flu, but as long as he stopped eating and took a day off, he would be fine.

Wolves were so senstive to pain. Just a bit of discomfort, and they were all dramatic and moaning. Hector more than most. Physical injuries he got rid of with his shadow, so any sickness, cold, or flu that wouldn't heal had him up in arms and whiny. Arnie had gotten used to not taking it too seriously.

Arnie watched a few more episodes, checking his phone and dozed off on the couch himself.

He went to check on Hector, but he looked peacefully asleep in the bed.

Arnie prepared him a glass of water and a bucket, just in case. Leaving the door open and satisfied with his precautions, he went to his own room, catching the sleeping wave before it was worse off.

...

Arnie woke up to the harsh sounds of throaty retches. Scrambling up a little slow from sleep, he braced himself on the doorframe in Hector's room, switching the small bedside table lamp on.

Hector didn't even get up, hunched over the bed and heaving over the bucket.

What did, however, get up was his shadow. It was sprawling across the wall behind the bed and wiggling uneasily across the floor.

Arnie stepped around it gingerly. Hector's shadow wouldn't hurt him, he knew, but it was a scary big thing to crawl around his feet.

Despite Hector's best efforts, the bucket was basically empty, only spits of yellow bile inside.

Arnie sighed, sitting down on the edge of the bed sleepily. Always so dramatic with Hector.

"Hex, you got nothing inside you, you are empty," he said, patting his back.

"Doesn't-doesn't feel like it-" Hector coughed between heaves.

He moaned, clutching the side of his belly as he lay back down, breathing harshly. "That freaking hurt."

"Flu it is," Arnie said with a yawn. "You are heaving even when running on empty."

"Then why the hell does it hurt?" Hector complained, sniffling. Arnie admonished himself for not bringing some more paper towels, too.

"It's normal to get cramps during the flu-"

"No, not crampy" Hector protested through gritted teeth. "It fucking hurts. And the pain travels."

Arnie frowned. "Travels? What?"

"The spot," Hector said, clutching at the right side of his stomach. It was still bloated, even though he had nothing to vomit. Arnie's eyebrows scrunched even more. This was starting to get weird.

"It was in the middle and now it's freaking here and it feels like someone stabbed me," Hector said angrily, just a breath away from whining. His shadow made an aggressive, wavy motion above their heads.

Arnie rubbed at his eyes, much more alert now. "So to sum it up - you felt sick during lunch, thought it was hunger, threw up at home and you were in pain since then?"

"I - I felt kind of off yesterday too, but like...just sluggish? Thought I was tired." Hector rolled onto his back, hands sliding lower on his right side.

Arnie leaned in closer. "Show me." He gently pried Hector's hands away, lifting up his shirt. His stomach was still so blown up, but he could see nothing on the spot. It seemed too specific for a place though, lower right abdomen...he pushed his hands around, trying to find some kind of physical proof, a bump or swell. Hector didn't protest his poking, eyes closed and pinched.

Arnie was the one with any basic knowledge of human anatomy and complications, since Hector always insisted that were human weaknesses that had nothing to do with him.

Arnie retracted his hands with a sigh, considering writing it off as a cramp lasting too long, when Hector whimpered. Like a real little whimper. He locked his limbs together, arms around his stomach again, tears leaking out. His shadow all but flooded the damn room, swinging angrily from one side to the other at Hector's pain.

"What, what did I do?" Arnie asked in panic, falling to his knees on the floor and taking Hector's forearm in both hands. "Hex? Hex, what-"

Hector twitched under his hands, twisting his face into the sheets as a trickle of bile came out of the corner of his mouth.

"I'm sorry, I'm really sorry!" Arnie said, pressing his forehead to Hector's as his older brother rode the pain out.

Hector said nothing, another little whimper coming up.

Arnie got up as quickly as he could to grab his phone. He dialed up the ambulance and called as he returned, not wanting to leave Hector alone.

"Noooo, no hospital," Hector whined pitifully.

"Yes, we have to," Arnie said in a strangled noise, putting his free hand on Hector's shoulder. "Please. Trust me. This is something serious."

With great effort, Hector pulled a hand away from his stomach and clutched Arnie's forearm, breathing raggedly as they both waited for the medics.

#sickfic #emeto #vomting #fever #hurt/comfort #bromance #brothers #werewolf wip #my writing #Hector

[writingonleaves]

were you sent by someone who wanted me dead? (did you sleep with a gun underneath our bed?) - jeremy swayman

pairing: jeremy swayman x original female character

warnings: swearing, pretty angsty. hopeful ish ending because i can't do sad endings, very personal but i think many can relate in their own way, cliche ish, barely proofread

inspired by + title: "the smallest man who ever lived" by taylor swift

word count: 5.6k

author's note: i'd argue almost every piece any author writes is personal, because it has their life interspersed through the words. but this one really is, because a majority of this is the exact same words i wrote years ago after a break-up. heard the bridge to this song and immediately knew i had to write something inspired by it. also trying a new format of sorts (maybe a bit meta??), so i hope you enjoy and lmk what you think!!

~*~*~

When Noelle Betsko walked away from Jeremy Swayman, holding back tears until the call dropped, she knew it was going to be a tough time for the foreseeable future. 

It didn’t matter that the pandemic had forced them apart. She knew she would still feel him for months to come.

She did the only thing she knows how to do when trying to deal with things. The one thing she always resorts to as an aspiring novelist. Sometimes on her laptop when the words were spilling out too quickly for her brain to catch up, tears littering the keyboard. Usually in her old beat-up journal, scribbling in the cursive that Jeremy claimed he always loved (“It makes your handwriting unique”) with the pens he had gifted her just a few months prior. 

At the age of 21, Noelle got her heart broken for the first time. At the age of 26, she’s about to publish her first poetry collection of sorts, all of the poems modeled after journal entries written throughout her life. So not really poetry, though her mother would say otherwise. 

She swallows as she thumbs through the middle part of the first known and binded copy of “miscellaneous.” There are only eight entries in the whole collection that are taken verbatim from her past writing. These are the eight.

May 13, 2020 (three days post-breakup, crying in my childhood bedroom)

I don’t even recognize who I was and who you were in those writings before these pages filled with love and hope and happiness. I can’t even summon up those feelings anymore that I knew existed at one point. Those feelings of complete bliss and love for someone so deep you can’t explain it. 

I’m mad at myself for not being able to conjure those feelings, because at one point, I did love you. How could something that was part of my daily life for over two years just disappear so quickly? 

But now, I’m not mad at myself. I’m mad, but I don’t know where to direct that anger to. I feel a bit empty sometimes, but then frustrated the next. Sometimes I get sad, but not so much compared to the other feelings. I spent enough time being sad during our relationship.

When we broke up, on an annoyingly beautiful Tuesday in May — over the damn phone, mind you, which whatever, it’s COVID. Fine — You told me you felt like you had been putting more effort into us. 

At the time, I didn’t react, but I’ve been thinking about how angry that statement made me. Makes me, actually. I was always very open with how much I gave to that relationship. How much it meant to me. How much it affected me. But I understand that with some people, sharing everything too much equates to things not meaning anything anymore. But you out of all people should’ve known that I mean everything I say.

I felt like I gave so much. I know I gave so much. When I told you I loved you, I always meant it. Every single time. When I told you I missed you, I always meant it. I wished you were right next to me at that moment. I mentally gave so much, because to me, I wanted to. You were always on my mind, always high up on my list of priorities. I never took us for granted.

I’ve been questioning if that was the same for you. Did you start becoming complacent?

The second thing you said that day that hasn’t left my head is that you knew me pretty well. And initially, I remember not thinking much of it. So I don’t doubt that; you always knew right when I was about to cry, even over the phone. You often knew when I was mad or upset, but when I look back now, you never pushed. Which is a good thing, to an extent. But it was a bad thing sometimes too. I knew you often wanted to give me space, but sometimes I didn’t want space. I wanted you to push. To try to understand. Maybe that’s unfair of me; it probably is. I should just say I want to talk about it more, right? 

But if you genuinely knew me, you would’ve known.

After two years, seven months and 12 days,  I still feel like I didn’t know you. Did I ever know you at all?

When people talked shit about you, I always defended you. And I still would defend you now. But lately, I've questioned what I’m even defending. All those good qualities that I thought you had, were they even real? Of course, I know some of them were, to a certain extent. But as I look back on us, there’s a lot of doubt about whether I even knew the person I called my boyfriend for so long. I know there was a point where you cared about me, but I can’t remember when. 

I often felt like I was letting you know so much about my life, but you didn’t do the same. I get that sometimes a person just wants to forget about the bad and focus on the good with a person you like for awhile. I get that. But once that was happening every damn time? That should’ve been a red flag. 

June 7, 2020 (twenty eight days post break-up, outside my childhood room on the deck) 

I don’t understand how you can give so much to something or someone and have it not be recognized or appreciated or enough. If I wasn’t enough for you, how will I be enough for anyone?

I hope one day you’ll truly understand how much this hurt. Not just the breakup, but feeling like I was always being pulled in a direction I didn’t always want to be pulled in. Feeling I was stuck between a rock and a hard place and never ever being able to win. I hate that I settled so much in the last year. Because I should’ve demanded more, even though deep down I knew you were never going to be able to give it to me.

I think back to our past daily texts, and I just don’t get it. At one point, we both meant the things we said to each other. 

Yet we still hurt each other. 

This fucking hurts.

You’ve hurt me so much, but most of it wasn’t intentional, which I think is somewhat even worse. Because I’m not totally mad at you for causing the pain. You never did anything outright to cause me pain, but I still feel like you did. 

Unintentional pain almost stings more than intentional. 

When I asked you out that night after we were both on an emotional high, I took a chance. For once in my life, I took the leap, knowing that I could get humiliated or hurt or just straight up shot down. 

Where did it all go wrong? Or, more realistically, how did we think that we could go through the wrong when it was there at the start?

I’m trying not to blame myself too much. Trying not to tell myself that I should’ve known better. 

All those times, especially at the start, when I would ask you if you genuinely liked me, you always thought I was just trying to be annoying. But you never understood that I genuinely thought that way. My self confidence from the start was lacking, and you didn’t try to understand that, because I come across to everyone as confident and self-assured. 

It hurt, when you would brush things off like that. I felt like you didn’t care.

And then, it got to the point where I stopped asking that question. Part of that is because I did become more confident and you did show that you cared, and part of that was because I knew it would piss you off.

The amount of things I was scared to talk about with you because I knew it would piss you off? I don’t wish that feeling on anybody.

I shouldn’t have been scared. I shouldn’t have been uncomfortable. But I was. And if you did notice like sometimes you claimed to, why didn’t you make it more comfortable for me? Was that too much to ask for? 

So larger than life that at the end, you faded into just the smallest man who ever lived. Fuck you.

Was it too much to ask for when I just wanted to know why you were upset? You didn’t have to ever tell me the full story (lord knows there were times I didn’t), but was it too much to ask for something? You told me once that I’m the person you’ve told the most to. How? You barely told me anything. And when I wanted to talk to you, whether it was about growing up in Alaska or why you were in a bad mood last night, you always brushed it off. Always. 

So I don’t feel so bad about feeling like I gave more effort. I gave so much of myself to you. If you really cared about me like you claimed you did, why couldn’t you show even just 1% of that care back? Or just meet me in the middle?

I could’ve tried harder to meet you in the middle, I’ll admit that. But you didn’t even give me a map or a clue how to. 

I felt so fucking left in the dark. I felt left in the dark about my own fucking relationship, something that I should be completely sure about. If you really love someone and care about them, how can you leave them in the dark? How could you not even see that I was struggling to find a flashlight?

You did care about me. I know that. To some extent and at some point in time, you did care about me. But caring about someone and their well-being isn’t always enough.

Why couldn’t you have worked with me? When I was extending my hand out, why didn’t you reach for it? How can someone just be so blind? I mean, I’m practically always spelling it out for you. 

Maybe I am being selfish. But fuck, I just wanted to be happy. At some point, you made me happy. When did I start making you feel like I wasn’t enough? Why wasn’t I enough for you?

It’s useless, in a way, to keep going about this. Because I know I deserve better. And we’ll both find people who are better for us. We just couldn’t be that person to each other.

I fucking loved you.

I wish it ended differently.

July 8, 2020 (fifty nine days post-breakup, in front of the lake)

I really really fucking miss you. 

I do. 

I miss being able to text you that i love you and not necessarily expecting a response until the next morning. I miss knowing that as soon as you wake up, you’ll text me back and assure me that yeah, you love me too. 

I’m left feeling bittersweet as I look back on memories that are just splashes and not definite strokes on the canvas that used to be us.

I miss having you as a friend. 

I’ve been having more urges lately to want to text you. And it isn’t even anything important. Just moments I experience throughout the day.

Do you get the urge to do the same?

July 19, 2020 (seventy days post-breakup, still in the same damn house)

It’s hard. It really is. And it kinda just hits you at random parts of the day. Sometimes I wake up from a dream that you were in and have to remind myself that it didn’t happen. 

Sometimes it physically aches when I realize that you won’t ever help me put on my jacket again, or complain that my hair is in your face when we’re lying on the couch watching Brooklyn Nine Nine, or groan when I drag you up to dance with me (which you never improved on, no matter how many times I tried to teach you basic rhythm). I can’t view our song the same way anymore, and I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to. 

The other day, I read some simple thing on Twitter. I don’t even remember what it was, but I do remember that for a split second, I could see your smile in my mind. But it wasn’t just any smile. It was the smile you gave me when you took me ice skating that first time. I remember asking you what you were smiling at, and you said that you just were taking in this moment. I don’t know if you took a mental picture that day, but I know I did. That day seems so long ago now. 

In almost anything I do, you somehow pop into my mind or into the conversation. And it’s not even in a harmful way either. It’s because you were part of my life for so long. I see a dog on the street, and it reminds me of how you always stopped to pet every single one we’s see I write something in my messy handwriting, and I remember how you always used to complain that you couldn’t read the notes I’d occasionally leave around your place when you went away. I went to the doctor’s the other day, and they said I was 5 feet and 3 inches, which is just definitely not true, and I almost reached for my phone to text you, because you would’ve cackled and insisted that no, I’m 5 feet 2 inches and it wouldn’t even matter because I’ll always be shorter than you. It’s simple and minute things that make me miss you that much more.

I still can’t listen to some songs the same way anymore, but I can at least listen to them now, which is a feat in itself. I was unpacking from college and found the teddy bear you sent me the first extended time we had to be apart and had to immediately put that out of my sight. From those boxes also came photos that I had decorated my dorm room with, and to be honest, I’m glad now that I let you keep our best one. I deal with all my emotions, besides writing, by making Spotify playlists, and I made a new one earlier this week. I think it’s helping. It’s a slow process, this whole moving on thing, but it’s one that I’m trying to be grateful for, because like most things in life, you just don’t truly know until you go through it.

Sometimes, I find myself wondering how you are and how you’re healing. But, even though we’ve both changed since the day we met, if there’s one thing I know, it’s that you’re incredibly strong and stubborn. I hope that you’re finding some growth in this process too. 

October 17, 2020 (one hundred fifty seven days post-break up, apartment in orono)

It’s been almost 5 months, and you still cross my mind everyday. 

Why wasn’t I enough for you? Why didn’t you fucking tell me what you were thinking? Why was I the one who had to approach you just because I was just so done with the silent treatment?

But I’m not mad at you. Not anymore. The mad phase passed ages ago. 

Closure is a fake word. Even a breakup as mutual and smooth as ours was still left me with so many questions that will probably never be answered. 

Any breakup fucks you up to some extent. I knew it was going to mess me up even back when we were together. But not like this. Never like this. 

But like anything in life, I guess you can never really prepare for what you think you might feel, because most of the time, you discover a whole new side of you that you never thought existed. 

I don’t miss you. I don’t. I don’t feel that love in any way anymore. 

But I did once.

You did too, right?

November 15, 2020 (one hundred eighty six days post break-up, fogler library)

I hate Halloween. 

Though, it did bring me to you three years ago. I’m pretty sure I fell in love with you right then and there. 

Three years later, you texted me on Halloween, five months after our breakup. The universe really, really wanted to fuck with me. 

It was a tough night for you. I knew that. Because I know how you are after losing a game you should’ve won. But that didn’t mean that I owed you anything and had to respond. 

We agreed on no contact if we ever wanted to stay friends. Clearly, friends is out of the picture now, but come on. A vulnerable text after a bad night because you know I would feel bad for you?

Fuck, you know how much I would hate that. You had to have known. 

Just because we’re not dating anymore doesn’t mean that everything about you just disappears. I still know your tendencies. I still know exactly how my head burrows into your chest during a hug. I still know the actions I used to do that would be followed by you attacking me with a hug. I still could point you out in a crowd. 

I looked for you in every crowd for years. 

That stuff doesn’t just go away, no matter how much I want it to. But fuck. Fuck. Why did you text me? 

I don’t regret how I handled it. I probably would’ve responded months ago. But just like you, I’ve grown these last couple of months. 

It was comforting, for a split second, to know that maybe, just maybe, these past couple of months have been hard for you too. It makes me feel human. It makes me feel like I’m not crazy.

I’m glad you texted me. You gave me another level of closure I hadn’t known that I needed until then. 

But fuck, dude. You know me better than that. You should know me better than that. 

I hate Halloween.

November 26, 2020 (one hundred ninety seven days, at the coffee shop i brought you to when you came home with me two years ago)

I don’t regret loving you, but I hate you for what you did to me. 

Or maybe not. 

I hate knowing that even though we haven’t been in a relationship in a bit, it feels like sometimes, you’re on my mind the exact same amount when we were dating. I hate knowing that I gave so much of myself and my love to you, and it always felt unrecognized. 

Fuck, will it ever stop hurting? Will I ever be able to have to stop myself from thinking about you? Will it ever stop?

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. 

Happy birthday. I hope you enjoy it.

June 12, 2021 (three hundred ninety five days post-break up, in boston, visiting a friend)

Tonight, when a friend asked me about you and how I felt about how we ended, I was able to articulate my thoughts clearly. I’m really proud of myself for getting to a point where I can take the lessons I learned the few months after we broke up and acknowledge them in a succinct way without breaking down into tears. Just watery eyes and the occasional voice crack 

I’m also proud that I can say that when we were dating, I lost a bit of myself. For months, it was really hard to admit out loud.

I’m proud of how far I’ve come. Sometimes, I wish I could call or text you about it, because I think you’d be proud too. And I know I’d be proud of you. I am, to be honest. I do break resolve once in awhile and check on you through various avenues.

I still haven’t seen you in person since the last time COVID made us say goodbye. Maybe I never will again. But day by day, I’m starting to accept that and be okay with it. I’m accepting that memories that used to be so painted in my mind are blurry or almost completely erased now. But that’s okay. Honestly, it’s probably for the best. 

I wonder, when you think about it, if you think about different moments that I do. That’s the thing when something ends. You have to be okay with letting go of those moments and realizing that just because you forget them, doesn’t mean they weren’t important. 

I don’t think I miss you. I hesitate in saying that. Because I’ve moved on and handled the aftermath of it better than I think both of us ever thought I could. When you hung up the phone for the last time, I proved to myself again that I’m stronger than I give myself credit for. I think we all are. But we don’t realize it until we’re thrown into a situation that we think we’ll never be able to overcome. 

But we do. Whether it’s because we’re forced to because there’s no other option, it doesn’t matter. Because we get through. We move on. 

I hope you're moving on. 

And then it goes into other topics, graduating during a pandemic specifically and losing what’s supposed to be your last year of no responsibilities before adulthood. There are other poems in here that reference a past relationship, but not as much as these eight. 

If there’s one thing that Noelle did change, it was taking out the details. Jeremy may have hurt her, but he doesn’t deserve someone possibly making a connection between these poems and their shared background. She’s not a famous author by any means, but she wanted to be careful.

Not that she makes that part of her life publicly known. People don’t need to know that her brother was Jeremy’s captain for two years at Maine and that’s how they met. 

Noelle grew up going to rinks. She hasn’t gone to one since they broke up. 

But also, what the fuck? It’s been five years since she’s dated the guy. She really is over it by now, even if his rise to stardom in the Bruins flittering on her social media feeds still sometimes has her swallowing a bit before she can continue with her day. 

Brooklyn is far enough from Boston. But sometimes it feels like it’s right outside her door. 

She’s proud of her first published work. She really is. People believed in her and after numerous notes swapped back and forth with her editor, she did it. She always knew she wanted to work in publishing. She never knew she herself would publish anything.

And here she is now, two weeks after the book release, in Boston, about to do a q&a and a signing. Apparently, “miscellaneous” has been on top of numerous lists and it’s flying off the shelves. Noelle can’t really believe it and tries not to think about it too much, trusting her agent with all of that. 

She’s happy to talk about her work and process though. That she can handle. And she’s grateful for all the love.

After a signing at a local bookstore, she decides to walk the 20 minutes home in the Boston fall. It’s a bit brisk, but she doesn’t mind and she just wanders, belly filled with delicious sushi she inhaled for dinner with an old friend.

Of course it happens the one time during her walk when she doesn’t avoid eye contact with someone. The song playing in her earbuds fade out of her focus and she almost stumbles. 

Jeremy’s eyes were always Noelle’s favorite thing about him. She thought she would’ve forgotten what they looked like by now. But clearly she hasn’t. 

Her eyes quickly cast to the person next to him. It’s definitely a girl. They’re a bit too far away for Noelle to pick out details. But it’s enough. He’s walking on the side closest to the street. It’s a Friday Night in a bustling part of the city. 

It hurts. She wishes it didn’t.

Even from far away, she sees his eyes blink in recognition. Noelle puts her head back down and walks faster. 

(She cries in the shower when she gets back to the hotel. She had debated feeling super sorry for herself and going to the hotel bar but refrained)

She has a few free days in Boston before flying back to New York. When she wakes up the next morning, she debates on going home early. But no, she won’t let a three second glance at someone ruin her time here. She used to occasionally come here during her college days. She loves this city. 

The city may be Jeremy’s, but she can make space for herself here too. 

She takes her time at a cafe, people watching and eating some breakfast. As she takes her coffee to-go, she looks out the window at the bookstore she was in the night before for the signing. She almost drops her coffee. 

Jeremy walks into the book store. 

Now, Noelle is debating her options. What she should do is continue with her day and walk in the opposite direction. But she’s always been too nosy for her own good. And maybe a bit self destructive. She decides to leave the cafe and cross the street immediately, so impatient to where she’s almost tapping her foot as the pedestrian signal stays red. 

As a writer, she’s no stranger to movie moments. The scenes written in books or movies where the timing is too accurate to be real. The situation too good to be true. But after a car speeds through an orange and she can finally walk, she stops in her tracks instead, feet glued down to the sidewalk.

Because Jeremy is right in front of her on the other side of the street. Her book in his hand. And he’s looking right at her. 

The first feeling she can recognize in herself is anger. Anger at the way their relationship panned out. Anger at the way they ended. Anger at the radio silence the years following. Anger at him for everything. Angry at herself for everything. 

The second feeling is, weirdly, shame, which she’s embarrassed by. There’s nothing to be ashamed of. But she feels it anyways. 

The third, and perhaps the most prominent, is emptiness. Five fucking years later, and she’s brought back to the emptiness she felt immediately after they broke up. The emptiness that the person you loved isn’t yours anymore — who maybe wasn’t ever yours to begin with. 

Before she can run, he’s already crossed the street to her. He looks naturally different as someone who you haven’t seen in five years would. But he also heartbreakingly looks the same. 

“We should get out of people’s way,” Noelle manages to chokes out. 

Jeremy laughs a bit. Her heart lurches. “Yeah.” He starts walking and she follows him wordlessly. This is his city after all. 

He leads them to a bench under a tree with beautiful fall foliage. She puts at least a foot between them as they both sit down, staring out at the people passing. She can’t take the silence. 

“I see you bought my book.”

“I did,” he replies evenly. “Congratulations. I always knew you would do it.”

She squeezes her eyes shut. Maybe if she squeezes hard enough she’ll forget when she originally pitched Jeremy the bare bones idea of the exact same book that’s currently in his hand. “Thank you. Congratulations to you too. On everything.”

“You’ve been watching?”

She shakes her head. “No. But, you know Seth and…yeah. It comes up during family calls sometimes.”

“Why didn’t you say hi last night?”

She looks pointedly at a couple walking their dog. “You seemed busy.”

“She wasn’t-that-it doesn’t mean anything.”

“Oh. Because that makes me feel so much better,” she spits out, before taking a deep breath. “Whatever. It doesn’t matter. We broke up ages ago.”

“I’m sorry,” she gives him a look and is slightly proud of how he seems to shrink into himself a bit. “I-I know it’s five years too late. I know I didn’t handle it as well as I should’ve. But for what it’s worth, I’m sorry.”

The thing is, Noelle always thought that maybe hearing an apology someday would make her feel better. But now that’s heard it, she’s not sure she does. 

She swallows. “I appreciate that.”

“I’ve already read it, you know.”

“Read what?”

Jeremy runs a hand through his hair. “Your book. One of my teammate’s girlfriend recommended it and I asked to borrow it. It’s fantastic,” He looks down at the book in his hand. It’s like the cover is taunting her. “I wanted my own copy.”

“Oh.” 

“Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For letting me off the hook with the poems I know were about me,” he scoffs, shaking his head at himself. “You could’ve written way worse.”

She can’t help but let out a chuckle. “I thought I was pretty mean.”

“Your definition of ‘pretty mean’ is tame compared to a lot of people,” he says, mindlessly flipping through the pages of the book. “You were always the kindest person, even when you shouldn’t have been..” 

He puts his hand out in her direction, the hand with the book in it. She furrows her eyebrows. “What-”

“Could I get a signed copy?”

“Jeremy. What do you want from me?”

He sighs, taking his hand back. “A chance to apologize?”

“You’ve already done that.”

“Not in the way I want to and what you deserve.”

She lets out a sigh, turning to face him fully. “I don’t know if that would be worth my time or yours. I know the book just came out, but that was five years ago. I’m over it. Forgive and forget, right?”

“But do you?” Jeremy counters back. “Clearly, you don’t forget, which I deserve. But forgive?” 

“We’re just going in circles now.”

“No we’re not,” he says firmly. “You’re just shutting me down because you don’t want to talk about it. I’ve had five years to prepare what I would say to you if I saw you again. You’re telling me you haven’t?”

“Of course I have,” Noelle tips her head back. “But also, what’s the point?”

“The point, is that I still love you.”

“Fuck you,” she says in a strained voice. “You can’t just-you can’t just throw that shit out there. Fuck you.”

He bites his lip, and to her annoyance, he laughs. But she listens more carefully, and it sounds very self deprecating. “I deserved that.”

“Yeah,” Noelle looks down at her feet. “So…what? You still love me?”

“I do.”

“And what are you going to do about that?”

“What are you going to let me do?”

“I live in Brooklyn.”

“I know,” she whips her head up. Jeremy looks sheepish, which she didn’t even think was something he knew how to do. “Seth mentioned it when we caught up a bit ago. I also still follow you on Instagram.”

She tries again. “It’s been five years.”

“And I’m here sitting with you and still feel the exact same way I did back then. Even more, to be honest.” He eyes her pointedly. “Any more excuses?”

Her voice softens. “You really hurt me.”

“I know. And I’m so sorry, Noelle.”

“I hurt you too.”

He shrugs. “We were young and stupid.”

“And we’re still not?” Noelle says with a snort before swallowing. “I’m not the same person you fell in love with.”

“I’m sure I’m not either. But I don’t know if there’s a world where I don’t love every version of you.”

“Even after reading the book?”

“Especially after reading the book,” he sighs. “Noelle, I know this is unfair of me. All of this. And I’m sorry it’s taken me this long to reach out. But I always intended to. And then you’re here? And I see you twice in two days? I’d be an idiot to not try. More of an idiot than I am, anyways.”

“Try for what?”

“A second chance? To be friends? Whatever you want.” He suddenly deflates. “Even if you don’t want anything to do with me. At least I’ll know.”

“Why did you never text me?”

“I thought about it a lot,” he admits. “I tried once, actually, after the high of a really good win. But it didn’t go through. I got the message.”

“The message?”

“You blocked me, right?”

Oh. “Yeah,” she lies. “I did.” She reaches into her bag for a pen and gestures for the book, which he gives to her, a curious gleam in his eyes. “I’m in Boston for two more days, including today.”

He takes the hint immediately. Eagerly. “I have a game tonight, but I’m free tomorrow.”

“Who are you guys playing?”

“Toronto. And I’m starting. Should be a good one.”

She hums non-committedly, scribbling on the inside of the front cover. She hands it back to him with a small, close-lipped smile. She nods at him to read the message.

to my first fan, 

i still love you too. 

xxx-xxx-xxxx

yours, 

noelle

He looks up, eyes shining but a bit confused. 

“I never blocked you. I just changed my number.”

“Oh.”

“And even if I still love you, I’m still mad at you.”

“I know. I’d be more surprised if you weren’t.”

She stands up, adjusting the bag on her shoulder and putting her sunglasses on. “Text me?”

His mouth splits wide into a grin. “Yeah. Yeah, of course.”

She backs away with one last attempt at a smile before turning down the street.

#k writes #hockey fanfiction #nhl #nhl fanfiction #nhl fanfic #nhl writing #hockey blurb #hockey writing #boston bruins #jeremy swayman #jeremy swayman blurb #jeremy swayman writing #jeremy swayman fic #jeremy swayman fanfiction #jeremy swayman x ofc #jeremy swayman x oc #jeremy swayman x reader

[varpusvaras]

Leia stops at the middle of the room.

Fox stops as well, and they look at each other for a brief moment, before Leia unclips her lightsaber from her belt.

"Here", she says, and extends the saber to Fox. "Do you want me to go over basics, even though it looked liked you already knew what you were doing."

Fox raises an eyebrow at her.

"I think it's pretty instinctual for anyone who has any level of combat training, to know how to hold on to a weapon and wave it around", he says. "Though perhaps, that counts as me having the basics down."

"Definitely does", Leia says, and then thrusts the lightsaber closer to him. "Take it. I'm not going to lie, I'm not an expert either, since my source for most things regarding the Jedi has been either my brother and the stories my parents told me, but it's better than nothing."

"Considering your situation, I agree", Fox says. He finally reaches out, and takes the lightsaber carefully in his hand. He knows how to hold it the right way, just as Leia had seen before, and she suspects it's because he has seen more than one Jedi use them, despite the Guard not having a Jedi General assigned to them.

They do have her now, Leia's mind posits to her before she can think better of it. She is not a Jedi, nor is she aggined to the Guard officially, but she is a General, she has the Force, and the Guard is hers, now.

Close enough.

Leia nods at him.

"Ignite it", she says. Fox takes a slightly sturdier stance, before doing so.

The blade hums as it ignites, the sound feeling like a summer rain that precedes a thunderstorm. A weapon of protection, but a weapon still.

Leia listens to it for a moment, and smiles.

"It likes you", she tells him.

Fox looks at her, and then at the saber.

"Does it?" He asks. "Can you tell?"

"Yes. It feels at home in your hands, just as it does in mine", Leia explains. "The lightsaber itself is not sentient, as we think of what a sentient is, but as a sort of a conductor of the Force, the crystal in it forms a sort of bond to the wielder."

Fox tilts his head as he gives the saber a closer look.

"It's enough that it likes me?" He asks. "So that it doesn't care that it's me who is wielding it, and not you?"

Leia hesitates, before she answers.

"Mother and father would sometimes say that I remind them of you", she says. "Perhaps they were more correct than I thought."

Fox looks at her, then. There's a searching look in his eyes, though it's not unkind. Leia thinks he knows already, in a sense. Perhaps he has by now started to realise that there is something more in what he feels every time he thinks about her papa or mama.

Leia thinks she might have to tell him, if he asks. Answer yes if he asks if in the another life, that has already gone by for her but not yet arrived for them, he loved them.

Then, his eyes soften, and he hums.

"Clearly, they knew whose daughter you were", he says, a confirmation to everything. He smiles. It's just a quick flash, but a true one nevertheless.

Leia smiles back. She then straightens her back, and Fox does the same. It's time for business, now.

This time, she promises. For herself, for him, for everyone else. This time, they will win, right here.

#more of Leia time travel au! #what's this? lightsaber training? #what could it possibly mean? #you tell me! :) #my writing #snippets #leia time travel au #sw #tcw #Leia Organa #Commander Fox #bail/breha/fox (implied)

[writing-for-life]

Considering this is a site where so many people have aspirations to become professional authors or artists, I think it’s really astounding that many (often the same) people encourage book piracy. And by that I mean: They don’t just do it behind closed doors (whatever, do what you have to do and keep it to yourself)—they actually package it as some act of immeasurable kindness in the name of “social justice”. And I’d say: If you’re not a professional author and have no experience in or with publishing, hence don’t really understand what it means to make your living as a writer, maybe just… don’t? And if you ever want to sell your books, maybe also just… don’t?

It’s not some cool subversive thing in the name of social justice you’re doing. You’re really hurting authors with it, and it’s in no way comparable to “fighting the big bad streamers.”

Yes, Neil Gaiman will be okay, but if you’re saying it’s okay to do it to him, you’re also saying by extension it’s okay to do it to lesser known authors. And those authors make up the vast (and I mean vast!) majority of authors. But maybe you’re one of those people who think that all artists are minted and picture them in La La Land, entirely possible. If that’s the case, maybe educate yourself what the median income of authors is, be very surprised and wake up. Sometimes, it really helps to think before hitting post. And if rants are not your thing, this is the exit sign because I’m not going to mince my words…

Here are a couple of really good comments from *that* post that people should maybe inwardly digest before they prioritise being oh-so-understanding and supportive of every Tom, Dick & Harry who “can’t afford the book” via piracy (how about buying them one instead if you care so much. No? Thought so) over supporting authors, artists and, yes, libraries:

(Re the last comment: Or use online libraries—they’re also free. That was also part of above post btw. Libby, Hoopla etc exist for a reason.)

If that’s all too hard, then let’s at least stop pretending on here that we care about supporting authors and artists while vocally supporting book piracy. Because really, it’s the same in all arts, even if the symptoms are slightly different—take it from one who is both a published author and used to be a stage performer.

And to say it quite frankly: These “ideas” are probably held by the same people who were tearfully blabbering about the arts being what kept them going during the pandemic and then forgot about it all when lockdown was over. Or maybe they are the same people who think that art is a “jolly pastime”, and that everyone should just be content to “do it for the love of it and give their art away for free because awwwww, so amazing, here, buy food with my exposure bucks.” Go on then, write and consume fanfics and create fanart, problem solved. Just don’t ever ask for the pro art that inspires it again. Ah no, I forgot, it’s all made for money and soulless anyway, innit? Why oh why then do you want to consume and pirate it though?

You’re not progressive and/or supportive of artists. You just have no clue how making a living in the arts works and think your comfort (= “I have to have all the things even if I can’t afford them”) matters more than someone’s livelihood (namely that of the people who devoted their lives to creating that art for you), and it really shows.

I don’t care about anyone’s Google history and even said so several time on here when people asked (this is the latest one, and yes, I see the people who had a “reaction” to this one or the reblog above, but I bet that’s “coincidence”). Do whatever you want to do, it’s your choice, keep it to yourself. But stop pretending that piracy means “caring about the noble cause”, because repackaging entitlement as social activism is performative crap…

#book piracy #authors #publishing #support libraries #support writers #books & libraries #bookblr #books #writers #personal rant